


A is for Ankh-Morpork Nights

by scarletmanuka



Series: V/V Alphabet Challenge [1]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:31:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7632637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletmanuka/pseuds/scarletmanuka





	A is for Ankh-Morpork Nights

There was a chill to the air as Vimes patrolled through the mist. The streets were empty, even the ones surrounding the busier dwarf bars, as people sought warm beds. The past few weeks had been hectic for his Watchmen and they had all been working double and triple shifts to catch a notorious spree killer. The man was now dead by Suicide by Cop (attacking Detritus with a knife is an easy form of suicide) and so Vimes had volunteered himself and Dorfl to take the night patrols so the others could rest. He’d sent the golem to the area surrounding the Shades, confident there would be no trouble. 

Vimes crossed over the Brass Bridge and sought shelter against one of the hippos. He pulled a cigar from his case and lit it, closing his eyes against the flare of the match so he wouldn’t lose his night vision. Taking a deep puff, he allowed himself to relax. As much as he complained that he hardly ever got to do any proper police work anymore, he had to admit that the past few weeks had more than given him his fill. He found it a little alarming that earlier on today he had found himself wishing he could just have a single day behind his desk to do paperwork. If that wasn’t a sign that he was overworked then he didn't know what was.

He took another puff and blew out three perfect smoke rings and then stepped from the shelter of the statue. The mist was turning to drizzle and he hunched his shoulders to keep dry. Up ahead he could see the lights of the Patrician’s Palace and he wondered if Vetinari would still be awake at this hour. He had seen very little of the man lately, and the few meetings they’d had had been about the killer. He felt his diaphragm clench and he realised he actually  _ missed _ the man. 

Their...whatever it was that they had (would he go as far as to call it a relationship?) had started suddenly one night when they’d found themselves wrapped in each other’s arms in the Oblong Office and before they knew it, Vetinari was on his knees and he had Vimes’ cock in his mouth. Vimes had then shoved the Patrician against his desk and stroked him to completion. It had been a purely physical release, and they hadn’t spoken of it afterwards, until two weeks later when they found themselves doing the same thing.

Since then it had become almost a given that several times a week they would take pleasure from the other. They kissed, and it wasn’t rough, but there was no cuddling afterwards; they didn't connect on an emotional level; it wasn’t  _ personal _ . But the last few times it had changed. They had sought out each other’s gazes instead of avoiding them. It seemed gentler, and not as rushed. And then the bodies had started to pile up and all of Vimes’ spare time was taken up with the chase, and they hadn’t seen each other in that way for three weeks.

And now he found himself on the streets, after midnight, staring up at the window he knew to be Vetinari’s, wondering if the man lay awake, thinking of him. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, ground out his cigar, and turned to make his way down the Street of Alchemists. 

Suddenly Vimes’ arm was grasped and he was dragged into a dark alleyway and thrown against the wall. He head narrowly missed hitting the brick wall and he tensed to fight back. His mouth was suddenly covered and even in the dark, he knew that mouth. He relaxed back against the bricks and returned Vetinari’s kiss. A hand reached up to cup the back of his neck and the other was clasped against his shirt. The kiss was passionate, and wanting, and Vimes felt himself get hard almost immediately. He wrapped his arms around Vetinari’s waist and pulled him close, grinding his hips against the man’s answering hardness. A moan escaped from the Patrician’s throat and he thrust back.

They eventually broke apart, and Vimes could just make out the face in the darkness. The assassin was dressed in the green and blue clothes he wore to blend in with the night and if Vimes didn't have his hands on him, he’d question if there was anyone there. Vetinari leaned his forehead against Vimes’, his breath warm against skin chilled by the mist. “I missed you,” he murmured.

“Funny you should say that. I was just thinking the same thing.”

“I won’t keep you - I know it’s just you and Dorfl out tonight. I just needed to see you.”

“I’m glad you tracked me down.”

Lips pressed quickly against his again and then Vetinari was gone, leaving Sam alone in the dark. He stood, leaning against the wall and breathing hard, the ghost of the kiss lingering on his lips. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the tightness in his pants to subside. When he was finally presentable, he stepped back out onto the street to continue his patrol. It was midnight and all was well.


End file.
